


Centerfold

by Bouncey



Series: Gifts and Prompts [6]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 80's AU, 80's Music, 90's AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Istredd was There, M/M, Model Jaskier, Mutual Pining, Nude Model Jaskier, Playgirl Model Jaskier, Smut, So much 90's nostalgia, Stoner Geralt, Stoner Yennefer, Student Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Student Yennefer, Top Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27075706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bouncey/pseuds/Bouncey
Summary: He grabbed the plastic beige handset off the wall and dialed Yennefer, anxiously twirling and untwirling the phone cord around his pointer finger while he waited for her to pick up. Eventually he heard a click and Yen giggled out a quiet, “Hello? Geralt?”“You witch!”“You are so welcome, dude.”ORYennefer finds Geralt's high school crush on the cover of a Playgirl and decides that meddling in her friend's love-life might be kind of fun.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Gifts and Prompts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843594
Comments: 7
Kudos: 233





	Centerfold

**Author's Note:**

> There is a lot of nuance in regards to the sex industry, but for the sake of cheesy 80's pop music, I have elected not to discuss them at length in this fic.
> 
> I'll save it for my thesis.

**OCTOBER 1993**

Geralt took a slow drag off the joint and handed it back to Yennefer. 

“Aren’t you afraid that your R.A. will smell this?”

A young, dark-haired man poked his head and shoulders inside the door and shot Yen a quick wink. His pukka-shell necklace sparkled in the bright light coming in from the hall and his tie-dyed tank top revealed muscular upper arms (totally Yen’s type, if Yen wasn’t already head-over-heels for the redheaded girl in her figure drawing class that wore a ‘ _White Flame Punks Fuck Off’_ shirt under her denim coveralls). She waved her free hand at the intruder and grinned lazily, “Hey Istredd.”

“Hey Yenna, you coming to the floor-wide Uno game later?”

“Yeah, for sure. I’m gonna kick your ass; prepare to draw four!”

“Are you bringing your friend?” the guy narrowed his eyes in Geralt’s direction. Yen was still holding the lit joint between her sticky fingers. 

“Nah, Geralt has other plans.”

“Alright, cool. Later.”

“Later,” Yen winked. When Istredd closed the door again and left them alone, Geralt turned and raised his eyebrow. 

“What was that all about?”

“ _That_ , my dear Ger-Bear, was my R.A.”

“Oh, you’ve absolutely gotta be shitting me. I have goddamned _Eskel the Pure_ over in Erikson and you’re living in fucking Candyland over here, flirting with that poor bastard and smoking weed whenever you want.”

“Yeah, well, what can I say?”

“Give me the joint.”

“Ah! I know what’ll cheer you up, you grumpy, overworked bastard,” Yen declared. She reached behind her, into the dark space beneath her bed, and shuffled around for a few moments while Geralt took long, slow pulls off the joint and blew his lungful of smoke towards the open window. 

The weed was nearly gone.

Yennefer’s eyes lit up and she pulled a clean, well-worn Converse shoe box out from the dust. She took the last of the lit joint from Geralt and finished it off. “Here we go. I stole this from the bodega down the street yesterday just for you, buddy.”

“What did you steal that you have to keep in a box underneath your bunk?”

Yen snorted and rolled her eyes, dropping the dead roach of the joint into her plastic ashtray. “Porn, duh.”

Geralt flushed in embarrassment and averted his eyes. He was still a bit of a prude when it came to sex and Yen’s openness about her own sexuality could be slightly overwhelming. “Jeez, Yen. You want to look at _porn_ with me?”

“No, I want to give you a naughty but wonderful gift and send you on your merry, masturbatory way. I have homework to do.”

“Fine. Which one’s for me?”

“Here,” she shoved a glossy, colorful number into his hands and then pressed his hands against his chest to hide the cover from his curious eyes. “Do not look at it until you’re alone, Geralt. _Promise_ me.”

“I promise?”

“No, for real. You’re going to combust. Also, you’re very incredibly welcome.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll pay you back for smoking me down later. Just swing by my dorm or call the floor line.”

“Alright, sounds good. Get home safe, nerd.”

Geralt saw himself out of the building, waving benignly at Istredd as they passed each other by the door. “Good luck,” he muttered underneath his breath. 

He made it across the campus to his own dorm building and climbed the threadbare stairs to his tiny private room. Upperclassmen could choose to live on their own and Geralt, never one to socialize unless it was absolutely necessary, had jumped at the chance. He flopped onto his back on his bed and unzipped his hoodie, pulling out the magazine Yennefer had given him. He nearly dropped it directly onto his face when his eyes finally focused on the cover.

He _knew_ that face. He knew those _eyes_. He’d dreamed of scenarios like this in English Lit every single day for a year and now that it was happening he felt almost _guilty_. Still, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. 

* * *

**OCTOBER 1988**

Jaskier sat two desks away, his chin propped up in the palm of his hand, the other hand taking detailed notes about whatever their English Lit teacher was talking about. He was an underclassman, the only sophomore in a room of juniors, having passed the advanced placement test to take this class a year early. Geralt admired his tenacity, his curiosity, and his biting wit. Not to mention, the guy was naturally adorable.

He had soft-looking, feathered brown bangs that hung just above (and sometimes fell into) a pair of incredibly expressive blue eyes, the color of which never failed to stun Geralt and take his breath away. Jaskier had the annoying habit of wearing sweaters in soft pastel colors that always seemed a little too baggy, too. They hung low around his neck and allowed Geralt, who sat one row behind him and slightly to the left, to catch glimpses of his collarbone when he shifted in his seat. 

Jaskier was Geralt’s unrequited crush for two long years in high school. When he’d finally graduated and moved away to pursue his veterinary degree, he’d pushed the underclassman to the back of his mind. He wouldn’t have time to waste with hopelessly romantic daydreams anymore.

It wasn’t like they were going to see each other again, anyway. 

* * *

Until today. 

Until Geralt had pulled out the copy of _Playgirl_ that Yennefer had nicked for him from the corner store and looked into those familiar blue eyes. _Jaskier’s_ eyes. Jaskier’s gorgeous, baby-blue eyes, which were gazing up at him from a magazine cover where he, still just as pale and lithe and beautiful as he was in high school only now fuller, more broad-shouldered and hirsute, was kneeling on a soft pink rug wearing a truly ridiculous flowing white poet’s shirt. The creamy silk material pooled over his waist and thighs, arranged artfully to hide anything truly naughty from the camera but revealing enough to pique Geralt’s interest quite a lot.

_Holy fuck._

Holy _fucking_ shit.

It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen in all 21 years of his life. 

He grabbed the plastic beige handset off the wall and dialed Yennefer, anxiously twirling and untwirling the phone cord around his pointer finger while he waited for her to pick up. Eventually he heard a _click_ and Yen giggled out a quiet, “Hello? Geralt?”

“You witch!”

“You are so welcome, dude.”

“What the _fuck_? How did you find this? Whe-”

“Take a chill pill, Ger-Bear. He’s making a name for himself, okay? I just happened to remember him from one of your old yearbooks. I believe there were two little hearts drawn next to his name?”

“Fuck off.”

“Enjoy.”

There was another _click_ and the line went dead. Geralt put the handset back in the cradle and sighed deeply. He changed into his pajamas and settled onto the bed with his anesthesiology textbook but his eyes wouldn’t focus on the words. All he could think about was the teasing hint of collarbone that showed on the front of the _Playgirl_ cover.

Just like back in class with the pale pink sweater…

Geralt shook his head and tossed his homework to the side. He grabbed for the magazine and flipped it open to the centerfold.

He nearly creamed his jeans right then.

* * *

Jaskier had passed him a note once, towards the end of Geralt’s senior year. 

_What are you looking at, pretty boy?_

He still had it hidden somewhere back home, tucked into an odd corner of his childhood desk. When he’d picked it out of the boy’s hand and met Jaskier’s curious, lightly teasing look he’d blushed bright red and turned away. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed to admit his feelings, he just didn’t want to feel the harsh sting of rejection. He wouldn’t have been able to handle it. 

And Jaskier was way out of his league, anyway.

Geralt had been a fool then and he was being a fool now as he perused the bright, waxy pages of Jaskier’s photo set and documented every little detail he could find. He paused to admire the way the dip of Jaskier’s pale hips looked in the low light of the setting they’d chosen. He loved the pretty, confident ease Jaskier projected as he lay, languidly nude and refined, atop a red velvet chaise. 

_Gods, the money he’d pay to see Jaskier again._

His dorm phone rang again suddenly, interrupting his daydreams and hauling him to his feet before his brain could even really respond. He picked up and pulled the receiver to his ear automatically, “Erikson 12B, this is Geralt speaking.”

“Geralt Bellegarde?” the oddly familiar voice asked. “From Kaedwen Academy class of 1989?”

“Yeah. May I ask who’s calling, please?”

“Oh, right, of course. Yen said you’d be surprised. Uhm, well, hello Geralt. It’s Julian.”

“Julian?”

“Right! Oh, silly me. It’s Jaskier!”

Geralt dropped the phone. He dropped the magazine.

He dropped to the floor in a dead faint.

* * *

“So it’s been a few years, huh?” Jaskier chuckled nervously. Geralt nodded and took a sip of his coffee.

“Just a few. How’s life treating you?”

“Pretty well, actually. I’ve gotten a few modeling jobs here and there. I’m also almost finished with my Bachelor’s degree.”

“What’re you studying?” 

“Linguistic Anthropology,” Jaskier grinned. The field clearly excited him. “I can’t wait to go abroad and work on my thesis!”

“I’m sure it’ll be the best one in your class,” Geralt half-smiled. “Why did you call me up again, anyway?”

“Oh my gosh,” Jaskier blushed, “It’s so embarrassing. You see, I used to have this _huge_ and probably _totally unrequited_ crush on you back in high school…”

* * *

Jaskier had him shoved up against the wall of an unfamiliar hotel room, his hands holding Geralt’s hips tightly enough to bruise. The older man groaned, fisting his hands into the hair he’d dreamed of touching for years, and let his head fall back with a dull _thunk_. He whined low in his throat when Jaskier pressed one knee forward and brushed it up against the inside of his thigh. . There was a slight, shifting friction but not enough to give him what he desperately wanted. Sharp teeth were worrying pretty pink marks into the skin of Geralt’s throat

“Jaskier, _c’mon_ ,” he gasped, tugging the younger man’s hair slightly. The model giggled - _fucking giggled_ \- and trailed one of his slender hands down the front of Geralt’s chest. Jaskier took his time. He flicked one of Geralt’s nipples through his thin grey t-shirt, making him gasp and wriggle in response. He moved the offending hand lower and squeezed the bulge at the front of Geralt’s ripped black jeans. He smirked and did it again, slower and more firmly. Geralt gasped, “Not fair!”

“I’ve been thinking about this moment for _so long,_ ” Jaskier smiled. “I can’t believe it’s finally happening!”

“Then make something _happen_ ,” Geralt growled, grinding forward into Jaskier’s palm. The brunette’s body language changed. Jaskier’s pelvis snapped forward and his hands moved from Geralt’s hips to pin his hands above his head. 

“This okay?” 

“Yeah. Definitely, yeah.”

“Cool. Good.”

Then Jaskier was kissing him, licking into his mouth and biting at his bottom lip with wild abandon. He felt claimed. Taken. Conquered. He was loving every moment of the younger man’s intense affection.

“Fuck!” Geralt whimpered. He ground forward again, searching for the heat and friction that only Jaskier could provide, “ _Fuck me,_ Jaskier, for the love of god!”

“More than happy to oblige, my dear.”

* * *

Geralt was in heaven. 

He had to be.

That was the only explanation he could come up with for why Jaskier’s glorious, silver tongue was making its way up and around his cock with such skilled and torturous movements as those slender, devious fingers drove him wild from the inside out. 

Eventually Jaskier pulled away. He grabbed a condom from the bedside table and raised an eyebrow in Geralt’s direction. “Would you like to have sex with me?”

“ _Yes_ , Jaskier. Please get in me _immediately_.”

“Bossy,” the model winked. “And far more talkative than I remember.”

“Yeah, well, this isn’t high school English class.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Jaskier snorted. He turned the radio up, filling the room with the sounds of Inner Circle’s new song, _Sweat_. He found it appropriate, even if it was mostly to mask their sex noises and not for ambiance.

“Now fuck me,” Geralt ordered with a huff. He shifted his hips up and glared impatiently. Jaskier grabbed the older man by the ankles and gave a solid, determined yank. Geralt slid down the bed, eyes wide, and landed exactly where Jaskier wanted. 

“I hope this is more than a one night stand for you, Geralt Bellegarde,” Jaskier groaned, pushing forward. Geralt gasped and arched, adjusting to the sensation of having something inside him again. It had been awhile; he hadn’t exactly explored this part of his sexuality that much after high school. He’d been too busy for anything more than a few casual hookups, and those tended to be with women. 

This was...this was _great_. This was _amazing._ This was way better than the stuff he’d tried doing all on his own.

“Yeah,” he finally exhaled. “I was hoping the same thing for you.”

“Good,” Jaskier smiled softly. He kissed the breath out of Geralt as he pushed the rest of the way forward. Their mutual breathing evened out a little more once they were settled and Geralt wiggled experimentally, drawing a labored groan from the model above him. “Gods, you feel more amazing than I ever imagined.”

“You _imagined_ me?”

“Half of that English notebook was just erotic poetry dedicated to your hair, abs, and dick,” Jaskier gasped, thrusting in and out of Geralt with the grace and good aim of Robin-fucking-Hood. The white-haired man was a sweaty, sex-noise making mess against the sheets. “Oh _gods_ , you’re tight. So _tight_ and so _good_ and oh, _fuck oh fuck_ Gera-”

“ _Fuck_!”

“ _Yessss_.”

* * *

“I thought people only came at the same time in my grandma’s smutty dime-store novels,” Jaskier teased, spread out atop the hotel bed like a starfish. Geralt was curled against his left side, his head pillowed against Jaskier’s furry chest. “That was fantastic. Are you free for dinner on Friday?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Geralt nodded, white hair sticky with sweat. “And sometimes on Tuesdays.”

Both men grinned at each other before relaxing back again. They both sighed in unison and said, “I gotta thank Yennefer.”

There was another shared glance before they burst into giggles. Jaskier kissed Geralt on the forehead and wrapped a loose arm around his broad, bare shoulders. This was the best day of his life.


End file.
